


The 4th Reason

by Anubis_2701



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Atsumu monster cock agenda, Barebacking, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, College Student Sakusa Kiyoomi, Creampie, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Rough Sex, Top Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anubis_2701/pseuds/Anubis_2701
Summary: Kiyoomi had gone to see the Jackals' game for three reasons. None of those reasons involved having sex with Miya Atsumu.He did it anyway.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 27
Kudos: 387
Collections: Bottomi Week 2021





	The 4th Reason

**Author's Note:**

> All credit for this concept goes to [Omikuyn/Matthew](https://twitter.com/0SAMUTIDDIES) and [this](https://twitter.com/0SAMUTIDDIES/status/1343792469020987394) banger tweet that inspired it! 
> 
> Major thanks goes to my lovely beta [May!!!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_Flowers)
> 
> This fic is also my submission for Bottomi Week 2021, for the prompts 'Tears of joy? How cute' and 'creampie' so enjoy!

Kiyoomi had gone to the game for three reasons.

Firstly, the MSBY Black Jackals had just hired Bokuto Koutarou as their new spiker. Sakusa had admired the other man while they’d been in high school, and counted him among the few other players he’d considered to be of a similar calibre to himself. Despite having just joined the team, Bokuto had already been declared a starter. Kiyoomi was delaying his own entry into the pro-leagues in order to get a degree first, but he wanted to know exactly what the skill requirement was to become a starter on a Division 1 team. He didn’t want to fall behind in any regard.

Secondly, he had been streaming pro-league games since he’d been in high school, but the limitations of watching a filmed game as opposed to viewing it live were evident. Without being constrained to viewing only the part of the court where the cameras were focused, he could observe the players individually, in moments of both high and low impact.

Finally, the game was against Kanagawa VC, and was one of Kanagawa’s home games. As such, it was held in Yokohama, which was close enough to Tokyo to justify abandoning his coursework for a day to hop on the train and go watch. Plus, his absent googling for tickets while considering whether or not to go had shown that there were still some good seats available. So, justifiably, he’d bought a ticket and signed away his Friday.

He had definitely  _ not _ waded his way through the bustle of Tokyo’s train stations, endured an hour-long train ride – complimented by an agitated businessman next to him who’d been muttering furiously into his phone for 90% of the trip – gone through  _ more _ torture walking through Yokohama and finally struggled his way into the arena and to his seat, for the sake of  _ Miya fucking Atsumu _ .

Yet sitting in the stands, watching as the two teams walked onto the court and greeted one another, it was Miya Atsumu who drew his eyes. And it was Miya Atsumu who turned almost unerringly in his direction, and met his curious gaze.

Miya paused in his walk across the court, cocking his head almost curiously at Kiyoomi, smirking slightly before turning away and following his teammates. Kiyoomi swallowed, watching as they bowed to their opponents before getting into position.

He and Miya had always had an interesting relationship; they’d interacted mostly on the court prior to their second year of high school. Primarily communicating via heated glares through the net and a few catty remarks between the two of them. Second year had been marginally more civilized, if only because they’d gotten to know one another better through the All-Japan Youth Training Camp.

Third year they had only interacted through games once more, with both of them too focused during their second time at the All-Japan camp to bother antagonizing each other. The last that he had seen of the other was at the Spring Interhigh – their last Nationals – after Inarizaki had stolen victory from Kamomedai, while Itachiyama, brought down by Mujinazaka, headed home.

He hadn’t seen the other man since, though he’d heard from Komori that he’d been scouted by MSBY and moved to Osaka. He’d never had much reason to care for what one of his former high school rivals was doing.

_ But _ , he thought, watching Miya get into position before the starting whistle blew, ushering in VC Kanagawa’s serve,  _ I won’t  _ _ not _ _ pay attention to him now that I’m here _ . For all his glaring flaws, Miya was a very talented setter, as had been made achingly apparent every time they’d played. So Kiyoomi made himself comfortable, leant forward in his seat, and watched the game keenly.

It didn’t take much to acknowledge how much better Miya had gotten with just two years of experience in a Division 1 team. His sets were as precise as ever, form elegant and eyes sharp. But more than that, there was just an undeniable sense that everything he did was more  _ polished _ . There was a sense of familiarity with even the riskiest moves the setter attempted, a confidence that belied his every move and made Kiyoomi’s breath catch involuntarily.

Miya Atsumu had become a professional. It shone in his every move. It made his stomach curdle. He didn’t regret going to university or getting a degree, but one thing he did regret was that, for all his natural talent, he was progressing forward slower than his peers who had already entered the V-League.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on the issue before VC and MSBY were caught in a vicious rally that demanded his full attention. He watched excellent save after excellent save, spikes and daring sets from both sides, allowing himself a small, impressed smile when the rally ended in a point for MSBY, brought about by a sudden dump from Miya.

Burnt amber eyes somehow met his, through the throngs of people stamping and clapping around him. Miya smirked, wiping at the sweat beading on his brow as he stared directly at Kiyoomi. He found himself swallowing, surprised by the attention before Miya was turning away again, approaching his teammates to regroup.

_ What’s that all about? _

There was no answer to his silent question waiting to offer itself, so he sat back and continued to watch.

But then it happened again. And again. And  _ again _ .

Every time Miya made a particularly good set, dump, or even just after extensive rallies with VC, he would deliberately turn and meet Kiyoomi’s eyes, smiling and smirking at him deviously, as if there was some secret between them, something intangible and private. Considering he had never shared  _ anything  _ with Miya, much less a secret of any kind, he had no idea what the hell the look was even  _ for _ .

Perhaps it was just a way to mock him for not yet being a player on the same stage, or even a legitimate show of surprise that he was there to watch the game in person. No matter what his reason was, it grated on Kiyoomi strangely throughout the rest of the game. He found his eyes tracking the setter restlessly, which meant he was now scrutinising some things he hadn’t shown much care to before.

Like the fact that Miya had changed the colour of his hair dye since Kiyoomi had seen him last; it was a much lighter, milder shade of blond now, one that actually suited the man’s complexion. He had gotten taller – Kiyoomi could tell by how far his head came up against the net now – yet he remained shorter than Kiyoomi. It wouldn’t be a very distinct difference, though, he noted with some displeasure.

He’d also bulked up since high school. The width of his shoulders and biceps both stood out, but were eclipsed by the more prominent growth he’d observed in the leg area. More specifically, his  _ thighs _ .

(Because fuck, they’d been a little ridiculous and too obvious for Kiyoomi’s deeply closeted self in high school, and old habits never die, so the fact that his mouth dried out really shouldn’t have surprised him.)

He forced himself to avert his eyes from Miya after he realised what direction his thoughts had decided to go in.  _ Calm the hell down,  _ he lectured himself angrily. Just because he was able to be as happily and openly gay as he wanted at Chuo, didn’t mean he had to salivate over people like Miya Atsumu.

Though, despite his determined lack of attention, he found his eyes straying back after every point the setter scored. Practically waiting with bated breath to make eye contact again, however briefly.

He was almost disappointed when the game drew to a close, the Black Jackals claiming a fairly effortless victory over VC Kanagawa with three sets to one, the winning team slapping one another’s backs and hooting with joy (that one was mainly Bokuto) as VC just shook their heads and offered congratulations.

The crowd around Kiyoomi was shifting and rising, all starting to peel both their eyes and bodies away from the arena in favour of going home. Kiyoomi hesitated for a moment, getting to his feet to do the same thing-

Then Miya’s eyes were on him again, pure amber heat, and he felt his footsteps falter before the gaze was once again broken.  _ Why…? _

Miya’s persistent focus on him had been easy enough to ignore at first, but this was getting ridiculous. As much as he hated to admit any of the blond’s schemes for attention actually succeeded, he had been entrapped by curiosity.

So, after climbing down from the stands, rather than following the crowds of people weaving down the halls towards the exits, he turned the other way, towards the area where team locker rooms would be roughly located. He leant against the wall, fiddling nervously with his phone and silently wondered why he’d even bothered coming. For someone that was consistently judged as being ‘boring’ or ‘lacklustre’ by others, Kiyoomi did honestly have a quite severe impulsive streak.

He got more and more antsy as the minutes bled by, ready to straighten up and leave when he finally heard footsteps.

“Ahh, ya did stay,” Miya said, smirking at him. Kiyoomi swallowed slightly as he stared at him. The other man had clearly just come straight from the shower, hair damp and tossed back in loose, aggravatingly attractive waves, and droplets rolling down the side of his neck. Kiyoomi forced his attention to Miya’s face, irritated by the smug look he could see there.

“So, did you want something?” he asked testily, “you kept looking at me through the game.”

Miya shoved his hands in his pockets, cracking his neck from side to side. “I ain’t gonna mince my words. I was just appreciatin’ the view. Ya got hot, Omi.”

Kiyoomi felt his cheeks warm up, and glared at the other man half-heartedly. He didn’t know the reason behind the compliment, but that didn’t mean he was  _ quite _ petty enough to not return it. “I guess I can say the same of you, from what I can see."

Miya's smirk grew. “Ya wanna see  _ more _ ?”

Kiyoomi stiffened.  _ Oh _ , so  _ that _ was why he’d been staring so much. The offer was clear – not even Kiyoomi’s hapless inexperience could stop him from realising that much – and he was horrified to find himself considering it. He’d never done anything sexual with anyone, which wasn’t surprising given that until about his last year of high school even  _ kissing _ other people had proved challenging for him, but he certainly wasn’t averse.

Miya had evidently taken his long silence to be a refusal, straightening up and grinning. “Ahh, sorry, didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable-”

“It’s fine, you just, um, you surprised me is all,” Kiyoomi averted his eyes, blushing. Was he really going to go through with this? Lose his virginity to  _ Miya fucking Atsumu _ of all people? Rather cruelly, his brain chose that moment to point out another droplet of water running down the front of the setter’s throat.

_ Well shit, I guess I am _ .

“Still, sorry-”

“Alright.”

“I-, what?”

“You can show me…what I can’t see.” He mumbled, cheeks burning with heat as Miya watched him carefully.

“Ya sure ya don’t have to get back to Tokyo?” the setter asked, voice somehow lower than it had been a moment ago, his eyes fixed on Kiyoomi with an almost unerring intensity.

“I don’t have classes tomorrow until noon,” Kiyoomi murmured, finally meeting his eyes again. Miya watched him another moment, analytical until his mouth curved into a sharp, almost hungry grin.

“Then let’s get goin’, shall we?”

* * *

Kiyoomi had come to the game in Yokohama for three reasons.

None of those three reasons had involved being slammed up against a hotel door the minute it had closed and kissed so furiously his head spun. 

And by Miya Atsumu, no less.

They had left the arena in tense silence, anticipation building and growing in both of them on the train ride to the hotel where Miya and the rest of his team were staying. The blond had texted his teammates to tell them he was turning in for the night, attracting a few messages of dismay, and a few that even seemed to have correctly guessed why Miya was declaring himself unavailable for the night. He showed Kiyoomi those messages with a grin that sent heat spiking through his gut.

And now he was here, his jaw in Miya’s grip as they kissed furiously, tongues laving at one another as the setter’s free hand gripped Kiyoomi’s hip with an almost bruising strength.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to do somethin’ like this,” Miya murmured as he pulled his lips away from Kiyoomi’s, directing his focus instead at the side of his throat.

He groaned, body bucking almost involuntarily when teeth and tongue scraped along his pulse point, sensation moving lower before he felt Miya begin to suck what was unmistakeably a hickey into his neck. He gasped into the sensation, pressing harder into Miya’s grip. He’d been kissed before, given hickeys as well, so the whole experience shouldn’t have felt so new, but something about how Miya was handling him felt so  _ different _ . Perhaps it was because there was a legitimate promise of something more coming after. Maybe it was because he had been dragged here under such borderline scandalous circumstances.

Whatever reason, he didn’t much care anymore, he just wanted to  _ feel _ .

“Hnnmm, do you,  _ ahh _ , preposition every high school acquaintance you run into, Miya?” Kiyoomi asked, pressing into his touch and letting his eyes roll back when the setter sunk his teeth in.

“Just the pretty ones,” he chuckled, swiping his tongue over the bitemark he’d just left, almost apologetically, “and call me Atsumu. I don’t wanna think about my twin right now.”

Kiyoomi shoved their mouths together again, nipping at his lower lip and groaning when a tongue slid back into his mouth. A string of saliva hung between them when they disconnected again, the blond focusing his efforts on kissing up the line of Kiyoomi’s jaw.

“Alright,” he breathed, keening when hands swept across the planes of his stomach, “ _ Atsumu _ .”

A low groan left the other man’s mouth before his teeth were latching onto Kiyoomi’s earlobe, sucking in a way that made all the strength flee his knees. He gripped Atsumu’s shoulders, grateful when the man wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him up against his  _ very _ broad and toned chest. Kiyoomi numbly smoothed his hands down it, fingers tracing the rise and dip of sculpted muscle.

Atsumu pulled back, pupils blown out and saliva slicked around his lips, and ran a hand through Kiyoomi’s curls. “Fuck that’s good,” he breathed, nipping at Kiyoomi’s lips, “Knew ya’d be the type to drive people crazy.”

Kiyoomi sucked in another deep breath, chest heaving as he stared at Atsumu. They’d done nothing but kiss and nip at one another, but he was already half-hard in his jeans and craving contact. Atsumu seemed to grasp his desperation, thankfully, smirking as the hand he hadn’t buried in Kiyoomi’s hair slid down to cup his budding erection, the pressure making Kiyoomi’s head spin and breathing quicken.

“Before we do anythin’,” Atsumu murmured, sucking another hickey into the side of Kiyoomi’s neck before pulling away, “I’m clean, got tested last week and ain’t been with anyone since two weeks before that.”

Kiyoomi relaxed at those words, looping his arms loosely around Atsumu’s shoulders. He hadn’t been sure how to address the issue so openly, but Atsumu clearly had no reservations about such. “I am too.” There was no way he couldn’t be, after all.

Atsumu grinned, kissing him harshly again before his hands slid down to grip the backs of Kiyoomi’s thighs and lifting him. A surprised, strangled sound tore its way free of his throat as he was effortlessly carried down the hallway of the (admittedly rather luxurious) hotel room. He squeezed his thighs tight around Atsumu’s hips, noting how the other man grinned lasciviously at him.

“Ya like?” he purred, coming to a stop right before a queen-sized bed. Kiyoomi shivered, running his hands down the biceps currently holding him up, smiling when his feather-light touches made Atsumu’s cheeks redden and nodding slightly. “Good to hear.”

He was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed – impressive given that he was 192 centimetres tall and had more than a bit of weight to him – barely getting a chance to brace himself before Atsumu was clambering on top of him, pressing a kiss to his mouth and a hand to the centre of his chest, pushing him down into the plush mattress.

Kiyoomi groaned, fisting his hands in Atsumu’s hair as more teasing touches slid along his abdomen and ribcage, hiking his shirt up around his pecs. He wriggled under the ministrations, gasping and groaning with pleasure. Atsumu chuckled, looking up at him with molten eyes and hair in disarray. “Yer so responsive, Omi-kun,” he murmured, pressing lovebites into his ribs and rubbing circles into his hipbones with his thumbs, “makin’ such good little noises fer me.”

Kiyoomi moaned again, eyes widening as Atsumu sat up, hooked his hands under the hem of his shirt and tugged it clean off. His eyes roved over the bare skin hungrily as the setter chuckled, kissed his jaw, and tugged Kiyoomi’s shirt off too, sliding a hand up his collarbone.

“I shoulda known ya’d have even more moles hidden away,” he murmured, leaning forward to pepper kisses on them, making Kiyoomi keen. “So damn pretty.”

“Atsumu,  _ hnngg _ , please-”

“Patience, patience,” the blond chided, unbuckling Kiyoomi’s pants and sliding them off, palming at the erection straining in his boxers before crawling closer and sliding his talented fingers under the waistband, making Kiyoomi shudder, “we’ll get there when we get there.”

At that, he peeled away Kiyoomi’s last layer of clothing, his only defence against prying, hungry eyes. He turned away with embarrassment, mild humiliation relieved only when he heard Atsumu groan softly. “Fuck, look at ya.”

He turned back curiously, sucking a startled breath when he saw that Atsumu had slid a hand down the front of his own unbuttoned pants, eyes fixed on Kiyoomi’s bare body as he stroked himself. His own cock twitched with interest, wondering how those strong hands would feel wrapped around him-

Atsumu withdrew his hand, slipping off the bed to rummage around in a nearby bag, returning with a condom and bottle of lube in hand, tossing them onto the bed nearby as Kiyoomi eyed them almost cautiously. He knew where Atsumu wanted this to go, obviously – the same place he himself had been hoping for – but now that there weren’t feverish kisses being pressed to his neck and sweeping touches to distract him, a few of his earlier nerves were returning.

“I ain’t gonna do anythin’ ya don’t want me to,” Atsumu murmured as he clambered back onto the bed, having obviously noticed Kiyoomi’s expression, “hell, if ya just wanna make out that’s fine by me.”

Kiyoomi found himself smiling, reaching up to hook an arm around Atsumu’s neck and drag him closer. “That’s a relief to hear, but I’d really rather if you sounded a little more eager to fuck me.”

Atsumu sucked in a breath, startled. “Got it, I can do that too.” He lurched forward and pressed another bruising kiss to Kiyoomi’s mouth, one hand pinning down his hips while the other patted the bed beside them, eventually locating the bottle of lube and snapping the cap open as he pulled away again. He kept his eyes fixed on Kiyoomi as he poured some over his fingers, warming it before slipping a finger down to prod at his entrance.

He sighed slightly when Atsumu pushed the first finger inside. He had done this to himself many times before, but something about having someone else do it was making his head spin pleasantly. The setter’s fingers were thicker and slightly longer than Kiyoomi’s own, he noted as a second slid inside, crooking  _ just right _ in a way that made electricity thrum pleasantly up his spine.

He whined slightly at Atsumu’s slow pace, canting his hips down on the intrusion in a silent plea for more. The setter chuckled again, twisting his wrist and slamming his fingers in deep so suddenly that it drew a strangled gasp from him. “Ya seem to like things a little rough, hmm?”

“ _ Hnnn _ , shut up,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes while continuing to rock his hips as Atsumu added a third finger. Atsumu only laughed, fingers withdrawing entirely and making him groan. The sound of fabric rustling caught his attention, and he blinked when he found Atsumu wiggling three fingers in front of his face.

“Ya reckon that was enough?” he asked, pulling his hand away a little and grinning cockily. Kiyoomi sat up a little, ready to tell the man to just get on with it, when he saw that he’d finally stripped off his own pants and boxers, cock flushed and hard against his stomach.

Oh,  _ Christ _ . Kiyoomi’s eyes slid back to the man’s fingers. Definitely not. He had been expecting something at least mildly impressive, considering how cocky and overconfident the setter had been up until this point, but  _ still _ .

“You’re gonna split me in half,” he said faintly, eyes tracing over the almost terrifying length and girth with equal parts apprehension and desire. Atsumu only laughed, reaching for the condom and tearing the packet open, rolling it on with ease – and shit, yeah, Kiyoomi should have noted the size listed on the packet, he really  _ had _ taken leave of his senses – and cocking his head at him.

“Ya wanna or nah? Cause I’d be down to fuck yer thighs if ya don’t want me inside.”

Kiyoomi blushed. As much of a turn on as that admittedly was, his body ached for more. So he sighed, reached out to give Atsumu’s cock a few hard strokes, and pressed himself closer. “I’m not going to give up  _ that _ easily.”

Atsumu grinned. “Alright then. Turn over, on yer hands and knees for me.”

Kiyoomi obeyed, hands gripping the headboard tightly as he heard Atsumu pour more lube onto his hands, slathering Kiyoomi up with a fresh bout before obviously slicking up his own length, hands gently prying his bent knees further apart so he could rest between them. A hand came to lay against the small of his back, and Kiyoomi felt his breath hitch as Atsumu’s tip nudged at his entrance.

“Ya good?” Atsumu asked. Kiyoomi swallowed, murmured out an affirmative and gripped the wood in his hands for dear life as the setter hummed, aligned himself properly and started to push in.

“ _ Fuck-! _ ” Kiyoomi gasped, head bowing and eyes squeezing shut, knuckles white against the headboard as Atsumu paused his forward push, both hands gently massaging at Kiyoomi’s abdomen.

“Relax, Omi,” he said, voice oddly soothing, “okay? I ain’t gonna hurt ya, so just relax. Deep breaths, come on.”

Kiyoomi obeyed with shaking legs, forcing his abdominals to untense and keeping his breathing deep and slow, focusing on the gentle ministrations Atsumu was laving on the base of his spine. After a small sound of warning, Atsumu was pushing further in, making Kiyoomi gasp and groan as he struggled to drag in air.

_ So good so good so good so  _ _ big _ _ - _

“Almost there, Omi,” Atsumu murmured to him, right hand doing a sweeping tour up the line of Kiyoomi’s spine, “yer doin’ so well, takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good.” He groaned in response, again forcibly unclenching his muscles before Atsumu was moving again, the blond sighing when his hips met the backs of Kiyoomi’s thighs. “Fuck yer tight,” he groaned, comforting hands again sliding up and down Kiyoomi’s back, “yer doin’ amazing.”

“ _ Hnnng,  _ ahh,  _ fuck _ ,” he muttered, resting his forehead against the headboard with a groan, “just, don’t move for a second.”

Atsumu hummed in understanding, hands tracing more shapes gently up Kiyoomi’s sides as he sucked in more deep breaths and let his body relax around the intrusion. There was a prickling, sore sensation already forming right where Atsumu was deepest, and Kiyoomi could already tell that it would make walking an absolute  _ bitch _ tomorrow.

He lifted his head, blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes. Atsumu gave a start when he saw them. “Shit, am I hurtin’ ya-”

“I’m good. Now  _ move _ ,” Kiyoomi interrupted, rocking his hips back experimentally and finding pleasure rippling in equal measure up with unfamiliarity. Atsumu blinked, then chuckled, the reverberations making him groan softly.

“I’ll take it those are tears of joy, then,” he smirked, “that’s so cute, Omi.”

Kiyoomi flipped his head around to glare at him.

“In your fucking  _ dreams _ -”

Atsumu chose that moment to slide out and thrust back in, hitting Kiyoomi deep and hard and ripping a moan from his chest. The discomfort from before was a distant friend as Atsumu kept up his pace of slow but deep thrusts, making Kiyoomi keen and whine as he gripped timber mercilessly. After a minute or so, he found rhythm with Atsumu, rocking back at the right times to get the man’s monster cock buried as deep as he could.

“Ya really do take it so well,” Atsumu groaned, reaching forward to fist one of his hands in Kiyoomi’s hair, yanking his head back harshly as he thrust in harder. Kiyoomi let his mouth fall open, rocking back blindly as he chased more and more pleasure. “Ya look so perfect like this, ya know, like ya were made to take me.”

He groaned at the words. “ _ Atsumu _ , fuck,  _ ahh- _ ”

Atsumu released his hair, letting his head fall back forwards, gripping his hips instead with dizzying force.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts, aight?” Atsumu croaked, waiting until Kiyoomi had dizzily nodded in understanding to adjust his grip and promptly slam into him at a rapid-fire pace. Kiyoomi almost  _ screamed _ , hands slipping from the headboard to grip helplessly at the blankets scattered around them as Atsumu continued to thrust inside him, pistoning his hips so that every other thrust rocked up against his prostate. Kiyoomi sobbed into the pillow next to his face.

“Yes, yes,  _ yes _ ,” he cried, one hand coming up to grip his own hair as Atsumu practically draped his chest over Kiyoomi’s back, sweaty skin sliding together as an arm lifted him from his half-crumpled position. Kiyoomi groaned, arching into the hold and sighing when he felt Atsumu’s teeth scrape at the flesh of his shoulder.

All the times Kiyoomi had imagined his first time, he had never anticipated something like this. Every movie and TV show that dared address the issue always presented tender lovemaking and overflowing emotion. Not the sweat and moaning and absolute  _ railing _ he was receiving right now.

The slap of skin on skin was debauching in its own right, complimented by Atsumu’s aborted grunts and Kiyoomi’s high whines. The fact that the hotel room was silent other than for them only drove him even crazier, rolling and rocking his hips into every one of Atsumu’s movements.

“I almost didn’t think it was ya, the first time I saw ya in the stands,” Atsumu mumbled into his shoulder, “drove me crazy to think that ya were watchin’ me play.” Kiyoomi forced his eyes open, wondering when he’d shut them, and glanced back at Atsumu. Amber eyes gazed starkly into his own, “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said ya got hot, Omi. Ya always been attractive but yer  _ beautiful _ now.”

Kiyoomi felt his heart lurch unexpectedly, reaching back to thread his fingers through Atsumu’s hair and pull him closer. “You,  _ ahh _ , you’ve always known how attractive you are. I don’t –  _ fuck _ – need to tell you.”

“Tell me anyway?” Atsumu murmured, sounding almost vulnerable for a moment as he ploughed directly into Kiyoomi’s prostate, making his body rock forward with pleasure.

“You’re beautiful too, obviously,” Kiyoomi murmured, rocking back harder, “ahhh,  _ god- _ ”

The sound that came out of Atsumu’s mouth was almost feral in nature as his speed – which had lapsed considerably during their short conversation – sped up back to its previous, back-breaking pace. Kiyoomi gave up entirely on holding the headboard, bracing himself on his forearms as he was thoroughly ruined.

He could feel ecstasy snaking up his spine, heat churning through his gut and making his toes curl pleasantly. He pressed back into the sensation, ready more than he’d ever been to come undone.

“So good,” Atsumu murmured, fucking into him at a brutal pace, “so damn-”

Kiyoomi felt him falter slightly, his thrusts speeding up for a split second before he was cursing, slowing down and pulling out. Kiyoomi swayed with surprise, glancing over his shoulder in bewilderment and interrupted pleasure.

“Condom broke,” Atsumu said, sounding both surprised and rueful, “I can get anoth-”

Kiyoomi shook his head, desperate to keep himself on his rapidly fading high. “You said you’re clean. Just fuck me.”

Atsumu paused for a second, processing Kiyoomi’s words before a low, shuddering sigh left his body, and he was suddenly manhandling his waist, yanking Kiyoomi towards him and thrusting inside in a single smooth motion. Kiyoomi cried out, arms trembling from where they were still holding him up as Atsumu picked up a rough, animalistic pace, slamming into him like this was their last chance at ecstasy.

Kiyoomi’s arms gave out, head burrowing into the pillow beneath him as pleasure rocked through him in waves. He sunk his teeth into the warm fabric, groaning when he realised how much saliva had been slicked around his mouth.

“So fucking perfect, so pretty,  _ hnngg, fuck- _ ” Atsumu cursed, thrusts becoming erratic as he was pulled closer and closer to the edge. Kiyoomi moaned into the pillow between his teeth again as Atsumu rocked into him in shallow thrusts, slamming into his prostate over and over. “Come for me baby, come on.”

And with Atsumu’s words as warm and sultry as they were, he was powerless to disobey, his orgasm tearing through him without mercy and splattering the bed beneath him. He practically screamed into the pillow his head was buried in, a haze of euphoria and contentment descending over his mind as he heard Atsumu groan in pleasure at the sensation of Kiyoomi’s body clenching up. 

_ Not bad for a first time, hmm? _

“ _ Shit- _ ” Atsumu groaned in his ear and slumped over him, heat unfurling inside Kiyoomi as they both crashed to the mattress together, still entangled and drenched in sweat. Kiyoomi’s breathing was coming fast and erratic, helped none by the softening yet still distinctly large cock buried inside him. He wiggled his hips slightly, thankful when Atsumu took the hint and pulled out, rolling onto the bed next to him with his own chest heaving.

“Fuck,” Kiyoomi muttered, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment as Atsumu chuckled beside him.

“That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” he said, tone admittedly a lot gentler than usual, before rolling his eyes. “but yeah.”

Atsumu sat up, smiling down at him. “I’m guessin’ yer desperate to shower now, then?”

“Hmm?”

The blond smirked, running a hand along the tender skin of his inner thighs, lifting his hand to show Kiyoomi the cum streaked across it. He felt his cheeks burning, remembering his adamance to do it raw. Atsumu wiggled his fingers closer to Kiyoomi’s face, expression full of easy confidence until Kiyoomi tipped his head forward and took the digits into his mouth, sucking lewdly. Atsumu’s face went scarlet, and he had to pull back to laugh at how astonished the man looked.

“Yer dirtier than I thought,” Atsumu said, grinning before extending the same hand Kiyoomi had just licked cum off. “Shower?”

He nodded gratefully, immediately groaning and slumping back after trying to stand up. Atsumu laughed harder, smirking at his slight winces. “Ha, I’m guessin’ it’s been a while for ya?”

Kiyoomi flushed. Right, perhaps that was something he’d told him beforehand. “It’s, uh,  _ never _ been, actually.”

Atsumu blinked, looking surprised for a moment before his grin was back in place, and he was reaching out to card a hand through Kiyoomi’s curls. “In that case, ‘m honoured. Now, we gonna shower or what?”

Kiyoomi nodded, accepting the hands Atsumu offered and stumbling to his feet, groaning at the deep ache at the base of his spine as he was tugged over to the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, Omi, I’ll catch ya if ya fall over,” he said, winking obnoxiously as Kiyoomi shook his head despondently.

“I’d rather crack my skull open on the tiles, thanks.”

Showering with another person had never been something Kiyoomi found himself much desiring, but it wasn’t such a bad experience with Atsumu. The blond did make attempts to smack his sore ass whenever Kiyoomi turned to grab soap or shampoo, and he insisted on washing Kiyoomi’s hair himself – which he was sure left him with Atsumu’s nails indented into his scalp – but it was…fun.

Once clean, though, Kiyoomi did question what was to happen next. Had Atsumu just wanted him to fuck and then leave? The question was answered for him a moment later when he shrugged on the hotel robe Atsumu had offered him, and found the setter flipping excitedly through the room service menu, having stripped the dirty top sheet off the bed at some point when Kiyoomi was trying to tame his hair.

He held it up triumphantly when Kiyoomi walked in. “Heya! Want food?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Kiyoomi was certain this was one of the strangest possible iterations of a hook-up. Every story he’d heard involved alcohol, usually, sex that ranged from mind-blowing to average, and a mutual understanding to part ways as soon as possible.

Complete sobriety and a full order of room service, plus bickering over a movie to watch, mere minutes after fucking each other’s brains out, didn’t seem to fit that bill.

But it was a strangely comfortable model, and Kiyoomi didn’t find himself feeling like he was overstaying his welcome as he caved to Atsumu’s desire to watch an Indian soap opera and snacked on yakisoba.

(A mistake, in hindsight, since he was wheezing five minutes into the show simply from the camera angles and  _ zooms _ .)

“So…whattaya plannin’ now?” Atsumu asked after their food dishes had been neatly packed away. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Kiyoomi eyed the clock. It was almost 11pm, and with the train to Tokyo taking an hour…

Atsumu seemed to be on the exact same wavelength, shrugging. “Just stay here the night. There’re early trains back to Tokyo.”

“…Alright.”

And really, Kiyoomi should have felt uncomfortable, slipping into bed to sleep next to Miya Atsumu. He should have felt uncomfortable far earlier in the night, while having sex with him, or after their first kiss, or even back when he’d first been hit on.

But it wasn’t, and he slipped into sleep with Atsumu’s arm tucked around his waist and a warm weight at his back.

* * *

Kiyoomi had been right; walking the next day was an absolute  _ bitch _ .

“Motherfucker,” he said, waking up a sleepy Atsumu by way of whacking him with one of the brochures the hotel had tucked onto a side-table. “I have to  _ sit _ on a train for an  _ hour _ .”

Atsumu just crossed his arms behind his head and grinned at him. “I mean, ya kept askin’ fer more, so it’s just as much yer fault as mine.”

Kiyoomi scowled, unwilling to agree with him as he pulled on his clothes from yesterday. It was a little gross to re-wear things, but he supposed he would be able to shower again and change once he was back at his dorm in Tokyo.

And brush his teeth, ugh. He’d rinsed his mouth out, last night, but that probably hadn’t done much. God, he probably still technically had  _ cum _ in his mouth. Wrinkling his nose at the thought, he fetched his phone off the nightstand, which had been saved only from a critically low battery because Atsumu had plugged it in for him while he slept. Satisfied that it wouldn’t die on him halfway through the journey, he pocketed it and examined the room for any other articles of clothing that had been discarded last night.

Spotting his jacket, he seized it, running a hand through his hair as Atsumu watched him curiously.

“I got a game in Nagoya next month, ya know.”

Kiyoomi glanced at him as he shrugged his jacket on. The offer was clear, but Kiyoomi had more to consider than whether he wanted to fuck Atsumu again. For all he’d complained of the very-present ache, their time together had been exceedingly – and surprisingly – pleasant. He  _ would _ like to do it again. He’d even admit that sleeping with the setter was a fourth benefit for having come to Yokohama.

But a game held in Nagoya had no benefits. It wasn’t close by, he’d already closely observed the best hitters on MSBY, and the refresher on live pro volleyball could last his analytical mind a month or two at least until he was itching to see another. There was no feasible reason, and definitely not a single out of the three that had brought him here to Yokohama, that he should bother doing it.

His eyes traced Atsumu’s form, gracing the powerful legs that had kept him roving ceaselessly around the court  _ and  _ held him up with ease, the hands that served marvellous sets and in equal measure pressed what had become  _ very _ dark bruises into his hips, the mouth that both shouted out encouragement to his teammates and had spat dirty talk at him just last night.

And really, Kiyoomi realised, maybe one reason was justification enough.

“See you there.”

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome ;)))
> 
> Edit: my demonic fingers have started typing out a sequel, god fucking damnit


End file.
